Zero no ambassador: my harem

Because Torristine's remaining force was so small, the garrison general, Angel, divided it into two parts, with 500 attackers staying at the harbor position and laying a dense area of explosives two hundred meters around it, while the remaining 2,500 archers gathered in one place and opened fire on a single enemy force of 2,000.

The two remaining Albion armies were completely unopposed, climbing over the gantry stones one after another.

In sight were the stone houses and walls of stone, the merchants here. The people had been leaving the city on floating ships for the previous two days, leaving hundreds of port staff waiting to receive Torristine's reinforcements.

The Albion army that crossed the barrier discerned their direction and headed straight for the port.

The other place was two thousand five hundred Torristine archers against two thousand Albion troops.

The Albion soldier climbing the stone wall had just emerged, three or four bows and arrows hugging at him.

"The soldier who was shot in the eye howled and fell backwards, falling six or seven meters from a height he would not live to see. But his death was only the prologue, as more Albion soldiers climbed to the top of the gantry stone and began to fall along the wall.

"Throat Throat Throat."

The archers kept bending their bows and shooting arrows, ruthlessly slaughtering an Albion army that was clinging to the surface of the gantry stone, unprotected. The arrows missed the walls, a blood blossom bloomed, and the Albion army lost two to three hundred men before they even launched an attack. But an equal number of soldiers managed to land, and those who remained on top of the gantry stone threw their shields down, landing with a loud clang.

The soldiers who had landed ran to the shield and raised it up, and four or five or ten of them gathered to defend themselves against the incoming arrows. Protected by the shields, only a few of the unlucky few were shot, the rest held on through the rain of arrows.

After the shieldmen came out, the next soldier to land picked up the long lances and knives that had been dropped from above and began to advance towards the opposite array of archers under the cover of the shieldmen.

"Dang, dang, dang,"

The bows and arrows hitting the shields emitted a burst of crashing sounds, which could only stall the forward speed of the shield soldiers and could not cause effective killing. Soon a mixed force of two hundred long knives and shields came into contact with the archer squads.

By this time the bows were useless, and about six hundred archers at the front of the phalanx dropped their bows and drew their short swords at their waists to fight with the enemy who pounced on them with red eyes.

"For Albion!" "For Torristine!" "For the First Lord!!!"

"KILL!!!"

The archers' short blades make it not slippery, relying on triple the number to stalemate with the long blades and shields, and without killing a single shield or long blade, the archers will die two to three people.

The archers in the rear could only shoot arrows towards the gantry stone, and if they shot forward they would mistakenly injure friendly troops, and there were a few more of them.

Without a surprise move, without an absolute gap in power, the two armies sparred together.

Seven or eight hundred of Albion's army were shot in the process of crossing the gantry as the archers prevented them from doing so, and the remaining twelve hundred or so took up arms, dying a hundred or so in the course of the advance, before being skirmished with a force of Torristine archers.

It was a true fight to the bitter end, with the entire Albion army bleeding to death, after fighting off almost all of the Torristine forces.

There were less than two hundred archers left in this garrison of Torristine.

Angel closed in on his troops and headed for the port.

The port is at the top of a hill in La Rochelle, a huge tree is planted in the harbor, and there are more than a dozen slips for floating ships to land and moor. The attackers, or demolition men, were gathered here, and they had planted thousands of explosives on the way from the city to the port.

The explosion began as an Albion army came into view.

"Boom!!!"

A fast running Albion Longblade soldier stepped on a slightly raised patch of ground before his body stepped over it, the blast cracking it and splattering flesh and blood.

The troops that followed halted, not daring to come any closer.

The blast had spread across a thirty-meter stretch of road, and three to four hundred people had been buried in it.

Knowing there were still explosives ahead, the Albion army didn't dare to move forward.

The following command followed, looking at the port some two hundred meters away, his eyes cold.

"Give me a move, every ten men side by side, advance ten meters apart."

This officer's eyes swept coldly to the soldiers, making his close guards pull this handbag to encompass a fifteen to sixteen meter wide section, the close guards face deadly intent. Then trip to the minefield.

"Boom."

The ten men were engulfed in flames during the blast, clearing a three to four meter safety zone as they ran.

Under the stern gaze of the officer, the Albion Army came forward in single file to meet death.

"Boom, boom,"

Rhythmically sounding explosions killed squads of Albion's army, but the minefields filled with explosives were cleared out in sections. Ten meters and twenty meters, fifty meters and a hundred meters, then two hundred meters.

When the last pair of soldiers reached the stone staircase without triggering an explosion, the Albion Army in the rear cheered noisily. Paying the sacrifice of five hundred men, they trip the minefield, leaving a thousand troops remaining.

The five hundred bombers in the harbor saw the enemy pass through the minefield and had a death wish in their eyes.

They don't dance with swords and guns, but they are second only to magicians among all types of soldiers. Why?

A Torristine blaster strapped with explosives all over his body and a frenzied depth of emotion on his face rushed up towards the Albion army that had just passed through the minefield.

"For Torristine." "For Her Majesty the Queen." "Long live Her Majesty the Queen!" "Long live the founder!!!"

The Albion army didn't carry archers, and wasn't able to shoot blasters from a distance to detonate them early.

So a human bomb rushed into the Albion crowd, taking a dozen or so knives and shots as they watched in horror, then spilling blood from their mouths and smiling mockingly at the enemy. Then "Boom!!!"

The explosion took the blaster soldier along with six or seven surrounding enemies.

The Albion army panicked and retreated, but it was too late, one blast soldier crashed into the Albion army then a single explosion took the plurality of enemies and themselves. Trapped in the minefield road, ten men width beyond the minefield is no trip out of the minefield, in front of a human bomb, running towards the back of the Albion Army is again blocked by the unknown forward convergence of the Albion Army behind them, desperate.

Five hundred exploding soldiers rushed out every tenth round, also hand in hand with this hand occupying the width of the road being traveled out. They disappeared in ranks into the blast of fire. The Albion army also lost almost everything in the explosion.

The smoke and fire remained, the flesh and blood were flying, and the earth was purgatory.

Another force of 3,500 Albion troops saw such a sight as they came through from the other side of the city.

Silently, the Albion army poured into the harbor along the road opened by their predecessors.

chapter viii. the attack and defense of la rochel 4 reinforcements

On the afternoon of the third day of the Battle of the Harbor, the Albion army had three thousand five hundred lancers and spearmen remaining; Torristine left two hundred archers and three hundred port staff.

The road in front of the port was red with blood and black with fire, and in two hundred meters long and ten men wide it swallowed the lives of two thousand Albionians and five hundred Torristine blasters.

The command of the last of Albion's army led the army slowly up the port.

The port staff, unarmed and silent, spread out on various posts in the port, watching Albion's army with cold eyes.

Finally arriving at the port after paying great sacrifices, the Albion army commander did not have a trace of joy in his heart. The sacrifices had been too many. He ordered some of his three hundred men to arrest the staff and guard them, threatening them to help the Albion Army operate the port facilities. The remaining three thousand men were patrolling and defending the perimeter of the port.

When Angel arrived just outside the port with the remaining two hundred archers, he was confronted with a heavily guarded harbor lined with knives and guns. The Albion commander saw Angel and ordered the remaining fifty shields plus four hundred and fifty lancers and lancers out of the harbor to attack.

Angel retreated back into the city and had archers spread out over the tops and bottoms of the buildings, firing arrows everywhere to harass them.